


The Spinster and The Antichrist

by 11likeswritingfanfiction



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Attempted Murder, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/11likeswritingfanfiction/pseuds/11likeswritingfanfiction
Summary: When Medusa finds a bloody young man on her doorstep at the home, she becomes attached to the boy with hair like sunshine and eyes like the sky.
Relationships: Michael Langdon/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	1. Nighttime Angel

**Author's Note:**

> A rewrite, sort-of redux of my story, Nothing More Than Human. This story does feature a black female lead. I'll add the tags as I go. This chapter mentions an attempted murder and references suicide.

Hearing crashing outside of her door at night, Rose cautiously opened her front door, to reveal a young man. The young man looking at her with tears in his eyes--and covered with blood. With her eyes widening, she ushers him inside, looking at his shaking hands.

The sight frightens her, as a girl who grew up in a place that was as eventful as a rock, a boy ending up injured at her doorstep isn’t a daily thing.

Medusa spots a car that crashed and collided into one of the trees in her front yard. The cool winter air makes her shiver as she stares at the helpless look in the boy’s eyes.

“Help me, please help me.” His voice trembled, his blue eyes wide with urgency. She hesitates, looking around the darkness of her otherwise peaceful porch before letting him in.

She tells him to sit on one of her wooden chairs in her dining room; because for whatever reason thinking of him getting blood on her grandmother’s sofa boiled her blood. Medusa makes her guest a warm cup of hot chocolate after learning he wasn’t a fan of coffee and decides that he’d probably like it made with milk instead of water.

“So,” Medusa says, taking your own mug and sitting across from him.

“If you can, sweetheart, can you tell me a bit about how you end up at my ‘umble abode?” She gives him a smile, hoping to soothe him and get him a little calm. He lets a shaky breath, looking at Medusa with a look that practically breaks her heart into pieces.

“My...my grandmother and I were on a road when she drove the car off the road; she--” His words seemed caught in his throat as tears flowed down his cheeks--he licks his lips. 

“She said, ‘you never should’ve been born, you’re an abomination’ and crashed the car. I-I think she’s dead. She’s dead and she doesn’t want me anymore.” Medusa’s eyes widen, and she feels herself starting crying. How could someone do that, try and kill such a sweet boy like him?

She didn’t know what came over when she took her thumb to wipe away his tears, making sure not to scratch him with her acrylics. He trembles but continues with his head cradled with her grasp. Medusa looks into his true blue eyes and says, “Ain’t nobody gon’ hurt you here sweetheart.” She says it as a given rather than a promise. Comforted by her words, he gives her a small smile, which she was relieved by.

“Listen, I gotta call the law, so make sure you tell them what you told me--as best as you can.”

Calling the sheriff, one Medusa had known had for ages, probably since he met her at the orphanage. At sixty, he was older than her by thirty years. He showed up gravely at ten at night--asking if she was ok and almost spooked at the tall, bloody boy behind her.

“What in the holy hell happened here?” As the boy explains the accident to the official, he looks at her with a troubled expression.

“Jesus Christ, lord in heaven. Alright. I trust you’ll take care of him, Little Rose.” She nods, taking a look at the boy, whose name she didn’t even know. He had just stood at the front step, looked on as his grandmother’s car got wheeled away with a tow truck and her body got taken away in a body bag.

“Hey.” He turns around to look at her. Her smile illuminated under the lights of the porch. She wore her daisy printed nightgown, wrapped up in her father’s old wool coat. It made his heart skip a beat, for a woman that treated him with kindness because she wanted to, rather than feeling as if it was something forced upon her.

“Would you like to stay with me?”

His heart trembled--she wanted him

When he nods, she takes his hand, leading his hand back into her small cottage. She begins with getting her patched up, using her first aid kit hidden up in her closet. He stares at her during the whole time--you are given a weary smile, a bit worn.

“Think of this as a new beginnin’, me and you,” Medusa says, patting his hand after.

“Can you manage to shower on your own?” He frowns, gesturing his bandaged arm--she creates an ‘o’ with her lips before laughing.

“Alright sweetheart, I'll run you a bath--oh and ya name? I don’t mind callin’ you Sweetheart or Sugarplum but I’d guess if you’re gonna be stayin’ here I should know it.”

He glanced at her, almost stunned before answering.

“Michael.”


	2. Proposed Intimate Sharing

The next morning, Medusa woke up early and did her chores--she watered plants, cleaned and started on breakfast. She sang a little song with her back to her home.

“Mama bought a starship, rode her tail to Jupiter--that’s Daddy says, Mama, been gone for years, for years.”

Waking up to the sound of bacon sizzling and smell wafting from it, Micheal gets up to find Rose singing to herself; her hair was set down in tight curls and the smile he showed him after feeling his presence was comforting. 

More home than he felt in the so-called ‘murder house’ with a family who wasn’t even alive. His father and Grandmother who wished he never existed, his mother who shared animosity towards him and her husband who seems to want to help but held back tremendously.

He felt alone there, he supposed that’s how it would be his whole life--until he happened to find himself on a kind woman’s doorstep a few days ago.

“How did you sleep Mikey?” She asks, as if using it as an excuse to feel the new nickname on her tongue. Then almost suddenly she’s left frowning at her own words.

“I know your back gotta be achin’ from laying on that couch so much. It’s just me here so I ain’t got a spare room or nothin’ like that,” Medusa quips, arranging food on plates for themselves. She calls him over to sit, pouring some lemonade she made in his glass.

She felt like home.

A new home for him.

Catching him staring after she spokes makes Medusa blush for the first time in years--she quickly turns her back, telling him “Unless we sleep in the same bed, I gotta get you a air mattress or somethin’--”

“We can.” She stops, now the one staring at him. There’s a beat, 

“I-If you’re comfortable with that...maybe we can put a blanket there to divide the space?” Micheal asks, almost hopefully--Medusa takes the idea and condition into account. She can’t have him staying on the couch forever and he seemed like he wouldn’t be a terrible bedmate--and it wasn’t like she was at the age where she felt embarrassed by men--aside than his eyes catching her off guard.

“Sure darlin’--but don’t cross that line, ya hear?” He nods, and she chuckles. She pulls out a seat, tapping it.

“Gon’ sit down for breakfast. I gotta get ready to go work--I made dinner and packed it with tupperware.” He looks at her as tense as sinner during Sunday service. She frowns. This was her first day not at home with him and of course she felt worried--She glances at Michael who picks at his eggs with a pout.

‘Now, now, don’t look like that.’ 

“I’ll call in today, but it ain’t gonna be like this tomorrow, ok?” Mchael’s head jerks up, giving a white and toothy smile. She takes her seat beside him, digging into her breakfast.

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you this, Michael but how old are you?” He pauses, staring off. Neither of them say anything; Medusa feels like she hit some sort of sore spot for him, and instead switches to a better topic.

“How about we go into town today? Get you some new clothes, walk around lil’ bit.” She throws the suggestion and after a beat, Michael agrees. She goes off to call in to the diner, Rochelle’s that she’d take a day off to get Juniper's newest resident. Later on he finds Michael wearing her father’s old paint stained overalls and her younger brother’s converses. She gives him a soft but curt nod, gathering her keys.


End file.
